


John & Roxy: Hold Hands

by TTMIYH



Category: Homestuck
Genre: (Not actually Lewd), Cutesy, F/M, Holding Hands, L-Lewd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-05 19:07:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17924612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TTMIYH/pseuds/TTMIYH
Summary: No blurb for this one. Someone challenged me to write a fic about handholding, so I did.





	John & Roxy: Hold Hands

The couch held the two neophyte lovebirds like a nest to eggs, as National Treasure played at a nearly deafening volume to drown out John Egbert's nervousness. Thankfully for him, it seemed that Roxy enjoyed the schlock as sincerely as he did, judging by the way she was enraptured by Nicholas Cage's performance, her pink eyes glittering with television photons shooting past them at the speed of light. John's attention was elsewhere, despite his otherwise rapturous appreciation for Nicholas Cage's work, namely, the fact that this was the first time his girlfriend was over his house. And Dad wasn't even home to moderate things, so he had no idea what could happen!

There was about an inch of space between them, and at several points, John considered putting an arm around her all slick-like as Dave had recommended. But whenever he tried to, his arm froze up in panic, or Roxy turned to give him an encouraging smile, or something exciting happened on screen and he ended up paying attention for a little bit. Roxy was leaning into her knees, cat stockings disappearing underneath her pencil skirt, chin caught in her hands, while John was shifting sitting position roughly every 90 seconds.

But then, something incredible happened.

Roxy reached out with her left hand, grabbing around for half a second for John's right hand. Without even turning her head, she made one false grab on his forearm and then zeroed in on his hand, quickly taking it into her own. John's eyes were bugging out enough to satisfy any entomologist, and a couple of seconds in, a lull in the dialogue allowed Roxy a moment to get a word in edgewise. "Chill," Roxy said, half-turning her head to face John and giving him a playful wink before returning to the movie. If John was having difficulty concentrating before on the movie, at least this gave him something else to focus on besides his nervousness. It was like a lightning rod to the storm of his interior, drawing everything to the intersection of their hands.

John's were rough and calloused slightly at the tips, not quite short and blunt but short enough that piano practice was excruciating for the first couple of years of his life until he got used to it. In contrast, Roxy's hands were smooth and clearly paid attention to, with rounded, black-painted nails, her thumbnail gently rapping against John's shorter, roughly clipped ones. When she moved her hand, their palms rubbed together, John's providing the friction, Roxy's providing the motion, a warm pocket of air forming between them. She rubbed her thumb against the fuzzy back of his hand, making the rest of his arm hair almost immediately stand up on end.

His four other fingers clasped over the side of her hand, while hers did the same, until she twisted her hand, slipping her index finger into the space between his pinky and ring fingers. She kept twisting until every one of her digits was next to its counterpart on John's hand, John's wrist lying over top of hers, her thumb on the outside and pinky on the inside. She ran her thumb against John's, back and forth, playing with the little fuzzlets sticking out from his skin. John stiffened up when his leg suddenly brushed up against Roxy's, from her scooting up next to him, resting their combined hand-unit on the crevice between their thighs. She kept rubbing John's thumb with her own, back and forth, in an almost hypnotically relaxing manner, her smooth arm up against his fuzzier one.

With each knuckle near its opposition on the other person's hand, John could feel Roxy's heartbeat at the base of her fingers, and doubtlessly, she could feel his. They weren't quite in sync, but John was surprised to find that Roxy's heart was going fast at all with how calm she was feeling. Maybe it was the movie. Must've been the movie,  _th-thump_. After ten minutes of heartbeat-feeling, a little adjustment had proven to John something doubtlessly embarrassing as heck, and that was the pool of sweat that had formed between their palms, but before he could apologize for it, Roxy slid her fingers down. Like someone slipping through the bars of a prison cell, she ran her fingertips down John's sweaty palm, grabbing a hold of his wrist with her thumb, letting her fingers linger on the ball of his palm, where the thumb's bottom knuckle connected.

She gave his hand a squeeze before gently rubbing the back of John's knuckles, pressing into his hand and giving them both a chance to wipe away sweat before returning to the interlaced fingers.

"Hey, John, wanna make out?"

**Author's Note:**

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